You Can't Torture The Devil
by Holding A Heart
Summary: He wasn't suffering enough for my liking. Not having to see me was almost like a relief for him; not to be haunted by my presence at his every turn. The devil doesn't get relief.


My throat was raw as the words ripped out of my throat and flew towards him with as much courage as I could muster. I pushed harder, forcing my volume above that of his own tormented scream.

"GO AWAY!" I had to shut my eyes as he stopped screeching and let out a mournful sob, his face turning towards the floor and twisting into a heart-wrenching frown, not being able to look at him as he took on the stance of a scared child being told off for doing something bad. He took small steps back, cowering away from my shriek.

My voice finally gave out and I opened my water-filled eyes to the empty room. I wrapped my arms around my body, comforting myself, now alone in this house. Forever.

* * *

><p>The throbbing pain throughout my entire body had muted to a dull ache in my limbs over the years that passed. Sometimes it would flare up as I thought I saw a flash of unmistakeable blonde curls or the back of a striped jumper, but then it was gone and I would be numb again.<p>

But then it got boring, and the pain turned to anger, and the anger turned to rage, and the rage turned to deviance. He wasn't suffering enough for my liking. Not having to see me was almost like a _relief_ for him; not to be haunted by my presence at his every turn. The devil doesn't get relief.

The devil can be beautiful. I know. I've seen him. I've looked into his eyes and seen what lies there. And you don't mess with the devil… not unless you know you can win.

* * *

><p>The first time I did it, I took some of Charles' Ether. Everything felt… nice. My body felt disconnected from my aching limbs. My aching limbs felt weightless. I couldn't tell if it was the hallway swaying, or me. I closed my eyes for a second and tried to remember how to use my mouth.<p>

"Tate?" The name came out an incomprehensible whisper, but when I opened my eyes he was there. He'd always be there. He was wearing his green and blue striped jumper – it had always been my favourite of his. I remember wearing it one day when I had been wrapped up in his bare arms. I hurled the thoughts violently from my mind and focused on his black eyes, glistening with unshed tears. "Come here," I mumbled, leaning on the railing behind me to support my insubstantial body.

I saw his chest visibly drop, almost like he'd taken his first breath out in years. His body relaxed as he thought his forever of waiting might be over. The tears spilled down his cheeks, leaving glistening, tempting paths down his soft cheeks.

I waited until he had almost reached me before I held up my hand, halting him in his step. The smile that was daring to appear on his face disappeared completely as he frowned at my sudden change in mood.

"Go away," I slurred, my voice not as commanding as I wanted it to be. It didn't matter anyway. His breath hitched, a new wave of tears washed down his face and he was gone.

* * *

><p>The next time I did it, I was a little more sober. I'd only taken a few swigs from the bottle of whiskey in my hand as I danced around the gazebo in my socks. I set the bottle gently on the ledge and made my mouth whisper the word.<p>

"Violet," his voice rasped, broken and out of control. I almost laughed out loud at his desperateness. But I couldn't because I felt it too. I hadn't had enough alcohol and the pain was welling up in my stomach, threatening to overspill as bile.

I turned around to face him. He didn't move towards me, just stood still, much closer already in the confined space of the gazebo than he was in the long stretch of hallway. So I moved towards him, sauntering towards him with measured, drunken precision. I stopped just before our chests met, looking up into his sad, longing eyes; the eyes of the devil, his most valuable weapon.

He lifted his hand, tentatively, to my hair, running his fingers cautiously through the silky smoothness. I leant into his palm slightly, smiling in almost shyness. The small moan that escaped his lips sent a sharp stab of pain through me, but I ignored it. Pain wasn't the same anymore anyway.

"Tate," I moaned, my eyes never leaving his. "Go away." And he's gone.

* * *

><p>I watched from the window as my mom rocked her baby in her arms on the front lawn. Dad came up behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing her cheek and cooing at their new pride and joy.<p>

"Tate," I said, not turning round; not tearing my eyes away from my family.

I could feel the warmth radiating off him directly behind me. Why does he keep coming? Why does he continue to torture himself when he knows what I'm doing to him? I should stop; maybe he's enjoying his torture. But so was I…

He placed his hand on my hip and gently spun me towards him, pressing my body against his with the touch of a ghost. He stared at me for what seemed like forever… That's what our forever was. An eternity of being so close, yet so far.

Finally, he started to move forwards, bending his head down to mine. His lips were only just touching mine when memories of just _him _flooded back to me, tears springing to my eyes, uncontrollable in their descent. His eyes were closed so he hadn't seen.

"Go away," I said quickly against his lips, closing my own eyes against his pain and my pain and the pain we kept causing each other. A waft of cold air blew against my body and I knew he's gone.

* * *

><p>I woke up on the bathroom floor on my side, my arm encased in a pool of wet, red liquid. My voice was still groggy but I didn't bother clearing my throat.<p>

"Tate," I croaked, not moving from my feeble recovery position on the floor. I knew he was there when a sob burst through his lips as he took in my newly revived body.

"Why are you doing this, Violet?" he wailed, kneeling down behind me, his knees pressing into my back as he leant over me – not menacingly – and pulled my hair away from my face. He stopped his soothing, almost paternal, motions after a while and reached behind him to the sink to get a damp washcloth. He lifted me off the floor and curled my body into his, onto his lap. He picked up my bloodied arm and started wiping away the drying blood.

Why was I doing this? I was hurting myself just as much as I was torturing him. Every time, I let him get a little closer to me, physically, before denying him what he wanted – when he was just that bit more in reach. I didn't know when I would stop; if I wanted it to stop. How far would I let him kiss me, touch me?

I watched his face intently as he cleaned me up. _This_ was further than our ghost of a kiss, emotionally. It was so much stronger and it scared me, tore at my stomach and my chest. He finished and finally looked at my face. I wanted him, wanted him like I had for so many years. I was so close to giving in.

"Go away." It was broken and void of all conviction. It wasn't meant at all. But he was gone.

* * *

><p>The rain continued to pummel down outside, creating just the right atmosphere for my mood. Kurt Cobain's voice wailed on in the background as I sat on my bed in leggings and one of Tate's jumpers that I'd stolen – my favourite green and blue striped one. I wrapped my arms around my torso, breathing in <em>his<em> scent. I was torturing myself beyond belief. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; I was supposed to torture the devil, but I should have realised he always wins.

I tossed and turned between my sheets, frustrated and sad and fed up.

"Tate!" I practically shouted into the empty room. I was standing by the side of my bed when he appeared, a slightly panicked expression on his face at my urgency. We stood facing each other for the first brief moment I'd felt in a long time, me breathing heavily, before we moved towards each other.

I grasped the sides of his face tightly between my hands as he did the same to my hips and our lips met in a furious, passionate kiss. There were no delicate, ghost-like qualities to this kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, digging my fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat that vibrated through my lips. I gasped into his mouth, and he used this moment to push his tongue into my mouth roughly, tangling it with my own. I moaned as his tongue explored and his grip on my hips tightened before his hands moved to my ass, squeezing gently.

"I love it when you wear my clothes," he managed to get out as we paused for breath, his hands not stopping their kneading and mine not letting go of his hair. I moaned again and tilted my head to give him better access to my neck. He kissed his way down to my collar bone, sucking and licking periodically in the spots he knew I liked best.

He stopped when he reached the top of my jumper. He growled and pulled it roughly out of his way, discarding the offending item by throwing it to somewhere across the room. He pulled my bra off, his mouth going to my breasts, nipping and licking the sensitive flesh, causing me to mewl softly. He started pushing me gently backwards so we were against the wall.

I brought him back up to me, pulling his face to mine in a searing kiss, running my tongue across his lips and teeth. I leant back with a sucking sound from our parting lips and threw his shirt off him and in the same direction as the jumper and bra. I ran my greedy hands over his perfectly smooth chest, scraping my nails over his nipples, causing his head to fall back and him to grind his hardness against me. My knees almost buckled, remembering the feeling of his wanting against me.

Without warning, I'd undone his button and zipper and shoved my hand into his pants, under his boxers, grabbing his hardness in my palm. A guttural moan came from his mouth, muffled by his head on my shoulder, as I slid my hand up and down his length, feeling him twitch with pleasure. He cupped my sex through my leggings, making me gasp and him moan at the heat and wetness.

He smacked my hand away eventually, before he went over the edge, and let out an animalistic growl as he yanked my leggings and panties down my legs, kneeling before me on the floor. He parted my legs roughly and looked up at me from under his long eyelashes, innocently.

"God, you're so wet." My head fell back against the cold wall as his tongue licked up my folds, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He thrust two fingers into me, continuing his assault with his mouth. I could feel the pleasurable tightening in my stomach as I dug my fingers further into his hair, pulling on it and making him moan, sending vibrations through my core.

I was so close when he stopped, standing up abruptly. I whined at the loss, ready to slap him. He merely laughed at my impatience, so I wrapped a leg around his waist and ground my wetness into his cock, making his eyes flutter closed and a groan come from his mouth.

He pushed me further against the wall and picked up my other leg and held it around him, teasing my entrance. I whined and ground down as much as I could. He slammed into me with out warning, making us both groan as he hit a spot deep inside me that I couldn't reach with my own fingers and I enveloped him in my heat, my walls clenching around his cock with each deep thrust, my back hitting the wall painfully each time.

He tightened his grip on me as he shifted us to lie down on the bed. He kept eye contact with me as he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back into me quickly, pulling out slowly again and again.

"Tate… faster, _please_," I managed to whine between thrusts. He complied, picking up his pace until I knew that I was so close. I reached my hand between us to rub at my nerves and the world exploded into a light of pleasure. My walls clenching tightly sent Tate over the edge and I watched his face contort beautifully as he came, still thrusting into me.

He collapsed on top of me for a few seconds after he finished before he rolled to the side and pulled me flush against him. He ran his fingers, in a feather light touch, up and down my arm as we stayed in silence until our breathing slowed to a normal rate. He was the first to speak.

"This is our forever, Violet," he said, happiness evident in his voice. I was still silent. "I love you." He sounded so relieved to finally say it after all this time. I stared at the wall opposite me for a while longer.

"Tate?" I whispered quietly. He hummed, waiting for what I was going to say. He sounded like he was settling down in the sheets, closing his eyes for sleep. "Go away."


End file.
